Chapter 1- The Impossible Case
Scotland Yard, London, England
"Abattoir-of course!" he exclaimed, "it's in the slaughterhouse John! Why on Earth did I miss this word, why did I just look at it as one big puzzle and not small pieces that have to be fitted together?" he questioned, I couldn't tell if he was talking to himself at that point, or me. He handed me the note. It read:
"Abattoir!" Jones cried.
"Why is this so frustrating," Austrie mumbled, "It's just one murder."
"Because, they strung him up an' left him didn't they! Left him to bleed to death without leaving a trace!" He replied.
"Somewhere in America, maybe, that's where 'e said they were," he explained.
"He's in America?" I asked, feeling stupid, as always, when those words fell out of my mouth.
"Yes John, catch up, you're almost as slow as Anderson. No, no one can be nearly as slow as Anderson, that's just stupid!" and he went back to talking to himself. I frowned
"Sherlock I-"
"Oh shut up john! Can't you see I'm trying to think be quite!" he snapped. "Are you angry with me" I looked up, after several minutes, that's all that twat can say. The smartest man I have ever known looked at me with his big puppy dog eyes and seemed, weak.
"No," I answered, I just can't do this anymore, I wanted to say
"Oh it's just the glaring at the floor and the tapping the beat too, what's that song called, eye of the tiger? And that just two-"
"No Sherlock, I'm not angry with you. When have you cared anyway? Have you ever cared? Four years ago, I found out you weren't dead. Three years ago, I got married and had my beautiful daughter eight months later. Two years ago-" I chocked, "there was an explosion in our street which- which- killed my wife and child, did you know she was pregnant with another child at the time as well?" I felt anger rising in my cheeks as my voice began to rise. "And finally, only three months ago,three months Sherlock, Molly was murdered my Moron, and you're- we're just sitting in a police cell for braking into a house, God only knows why!" I spat the last words as if they were venom. He looked at me, his cat like eyes burning through my soul.
"John, I am not capable of emotion. Just like everyone says, I'm a machine. I cannot, and I will not feel anything. Did you know sentiment is a chemical found in the losing side? The people I have lost, the people I will lose, I will not feel for. I am sorry but, I will not feel for your sanity."
I felt my anger bubble up inside my chest. That's all he decided to say. He's mechanical! I wanted to strangle him. I wanted to-
"Hello boys" A cool voice said.
"Lestrade I-"Sherlock started.
"Hush darling," he had a cruel smile on his face, "I have an exhilarating case for you. It will keep your mind off killing each other. Maybe off, her." His smile became even wider. This was not Lestrade.
"There is a very old man behind this door, now instead of rotting in this cell; I want you to help him find a missing girl."
I could see a small smile creep on Sherlock's face. He knew this wasn't our Lestrade.
"What's her name?" he asked in a cheerful voice.
"Let's call her," a deep, Scottish voice said. A tall stranger walked into the room, "my Impossible Girl."
Texas, America
I looked over to my big brother, even in the dark I could see his strong features turn to slushie as he looked down at my broken body. My destroyed face, my broken arms and my possibly broken ribs, it hurt like hell! Well not literally hell, but you know. Just looking at his face made my heart drown in guilt.
His strong arms picked me up from the motel floor and trudged over to the impala. He lied me down and drove to the hospital.
0o0o0o0o0
All I could do was listen to the small whispers as I was drugged and whisked on to an operation table to be treated.
0o0o0o0o0
"Sammy?" said a shaking voice, "why did you let them sons of a bitch break my Baby like that? Plus, who jacked up your ugly face?" I could feel a small smile creep onto my "jacked up" face.
"Dean, I thought you cared for your brother, why are you being so rude to his unconscious form?" asked another deep voice from my left.
My eyes fluttered open with effort and I heaved a deep sigh when I saw my pissed off brother and a confused angel. Standing next to each other by my hospital bed.
"Dean," I croaked, "I know I should have told you, I-"
"You should have told me what? That you're going to inviter six demons over? Or that you're going to need a sixteen hour long operation?"
"Sorry dean, I thought I could take them"
"Sorry? That's all you can say to me? I thought I could trust you!" he stomped away angrily.
"Dean, where are you going?" Castiel asked, confused about what just happened.
"I'm getting some air." And with that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.
That's when I heard it. Many, many, shots go off. I heard my brother shout my name. I looked at the empty spot where Castiel had just been. I heard another shot and felt a pain in my chest. My vision became blotchy and I could feel myself fall into an endless void of terror.